Pierced
by Eloeehez
Summary: Just a bit of crack based off an image on DA.  Ultra Magnus with a glossa piercing.  Serious crack indeed.


So basically...kind of a oneshot ish thing I wrote based on a pic from DA. :p Tash wrote one too, but I had my own serious crack-ish idea for it, so I wrote it. Well, technically I've almost written two of them. o_O Anyways, since I haven't gotten very far on the next chappy of my other fic, thought I'd post this for hilarity's sake.

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><p>Ultra Magnus onlined to a processor ache, the likes of which he had <em>never<em> experienced before. His processor didn't just ache; it burned with a stabbing, agonizing, crippling pain. Onlining his optics he immediately had to dim them to the point they were almost offline. Slowly an unfamiliar ceiling wobbled into clarity. Ever so cautiously he turned his head from side to side, taking in the entirety of the room. It was a small room with a berth that barely fit his frame snug against the wall opposite the door, a small table beside the berth, and a cabinet hung halfway up the wall to be within reach of all frame types.

Ultra considered the possibility that he had been botnapped. Searching his memory files he located enough to tell him he had gone out for high-grade. And that everything after the third cube was either full of static making it very hard to view accurately, or simply not there. That did nothing to suggest he hadn't been botnapped, but it also didn't rule it in. In fact, it led to a few more possibilities. He could be in a cheap hotel room, in a bar's back room, or in some bot's spare room.

Lifting a servo to rub at his helm he noticed that his armor was orange and green meaning his electric paint was still active. That dramatically decreased the possibility of his botnap since he had designed it to the typical Cybertronian form, without his Elite Guard symbol, even going so far as to make his faceplates appear younger and wearing a vocal modulator.

Ever so slowly he sat up, even that careful movement exacerbating his processor ache. As he swung his legs over the edge of the berth the door opened. Looking up he spotted a mech he recognized instantly as the bartender of Uniq Trendz.

"Roadbuster, thank Primus." The mech, Mixer, breathed quietly; obviously aware of Ultra's processor ache from the Pit. "I apologize. I didn't keep a close enough optic on that…scum."

"Wha' …" Ultra started only to stop at the stinging pain that assaulted his glossa. Carefully he reached up to touch it. Mixer grabbed his wrist gently, stopping the movement.

"You shouldn't touch it." Mixer advised. "I'm sorry for that." The carbot gestured vaguely towards Ultra's mouth. "My bar is supposed to be a safe place. And here I didn't notice that scum was…I'm sorry, Roadbuster, but he pierced your glossa."

"S'alrigh'." Ultra slurred around the new addition. "I' remove ih la'er."

"No, you don't understand." Mixer shook his head sadly. "He used an illegal mod to do it. The bar connects to your sensor network. Even if you remove it your nanites won't fix it. Your systems already believe it is a part of them. Even a glossa replacement will not correct it without a full systems reset." Mixer rubbed his optics. "I should have paid closer attention. You were clearly overcharged and all my patrons know I don't allow overcharged bots to get mods…I thought he was just being…forward with you."

Ultra rubbed the sides of his helm, trying to absorb this new information. Unfortunately he didn't have any memory files of the incident. He had no idea if he'd actually thought this was a good idea in his overcharged state but he certainly didn't now.

Mixer went to the cabinet and removed several small cubes of processor ache reliever, handing them to Ultra who drank them quickly but carefully. Unfortunately they barely diminished the pain.

"Wha'd I drin'?" Ultra managed to ask.

"You tried my new concentrated high-grade blend. I cut you off after five, but I think that scum may have slipped you more. And perhaps something else." Mixer sighed again. "I can't apologize enough, 'Buster. I kept him from taking you with him, but this still shouldn't have happened. I have reported him to the Autotroopers already."

Ultra managed a small nod, slipping off the berth. "I be'ive I'm a go home 'ow."

"I have an escort waiting for you downstairs." Mixer informed him, steadying Ultra as he listed a bit. "Since you cannot easily remove the glossa bar and it happened in my establishment I researched it and found a store that sells," Mixer made a face as he handed Ultra a datapad, "flat caps in natural colors. It's not like removing it, but until then you can at least hide it."

Painstakingly they made their way down to the main bar area, the whole time Ultra kept one servo on the wall and the other on Mixer's shoulder.

As they reached the bottom, Ultra's comm. began to chime, adding to the pain. It was Sentinel calling, for the fifty-seventh time, and Ultra was in no mood to have Sentinel's ranting add to his agony. Swiftly he silenced his comm., disabling it temporarily, and checked his messages. There were over a hundred from various mechs at Autobot Command and on his home security staff. Checking his chronometer he realized that he was over a megacycle late for his duty shift. It was no wonder they were panicking.

Mixer carefully passed Ultra off to a waiting escort-bot, still apologizing profusely. Ultra recognized the logo as being from the only company Mixer used and trusted to get bots home. The silver tankbot was gentle and patient as they half staggered out the door.

Transforming down extra slowly, Ultra began to compose a text to Command, aware they would need some sort of communication, especially since he had cut Sentinel off. The escort-bot hugged his side as they began to make their way towards Ultra's secret 'Roadbuster' apartment. Although it was only a secret from the rest of his command and the council.

Ultra was forced to stop frequently along their route, the visual and audio input from traveling overwhelming his aching sensors, causing his processor ache to surge. During one of these stops he managed to finally send a texted response.

::_I am uninjured and safe, but will not be coming in to Command this sol._:: Ultra sent to his command staff.

Almost instantly he was flooded with replies, all demands for his location and accurate status immediately. He ignored them in favor of focusing his attention on moving once again towards his apartment. They were over half-way there when he was pinged with a priority medical locator signal. He shut it down as soon as he could, aware that they now had his location and were undoubtedly sending Blurr and any other swift agents to his location.

Sure enough, as they slowly made their way around a corner at the next block Blurr appeared where they had just been, looking around frantically. Or at least looking around. Blurr's actions were always so fast they appeared frantic. Buildings cut his view of the agent and he went back to focusing on the drive.

A megacycle later they were finally standing in front of his apartment door. Pressing his servo to the lock, it clicked open and Ultra turned to the escort-bot.

"Do I nee' to…" Ultra winced with the sting as his abused glossa scraped too roughly against his denta. The escort-bot held up a servo shaking his head.

"It's all been taken care of." The mech assured him. "Would you like for me to call you a medic?"

Ultra managed a small shake of his head and the escort-bot transformed down, heading for the exit. Ultra turned and headed slowly into his apartment, stumbling towards his berth even as the door cycled closed and automatically locked behind him. He carefully collapsed onto it with a soft groan. All he wanted to do was recharge for a decacycle, or at least until his processor ache was gone.

He was attempting to cycle down into recharge when something gripped one of his tires. Ultra rolled off the berth and snapped into a defensive position as quickly as possible. His cover was blown. An electric paint job created an illusion and whatever bot or object had touched him had undoubtedly felt the tread of his tire rather than the illusion's tracks.

"Easy UM." Jazz's soothing voice and calm stance greeted him when his optics settled. He noted Jazz's servos displayed in an 'I am unarmed' gesture learned from earth and the concern on his faceplates. Ultra lowered the energy blades he had pulled on the mech.

"..'azz" Ultra managed to half-mumble, half-slur.

"Easy." Jazz repeated, carefully taking the energy blades from Ultra's servos and guiding him back to his berth. As he did so, Ultra noticed Blurr by the door, speaking quietly but at full speed through his comm.

"How..?" Ultra asked softly.

"Ninjabot." Jazz answered simply and softly.

Ultra shook his head minutely, waving a servo over his frame, trying to ask how they'd discovered him even with his disguise.

"When-medic-Red-Alert-pinged-you-I-immediately-headed-for-the-location,-sir." Blurr spoke to him directly. "It-wasn't-that-hard-to-figure-out-since-you-were-the-only-bot-of-your-model-type-in-the-area.-We-simply-had-to-confirm-that-it-was-you-in-disguise,-sir."

Ultra nodded softly, laying back and offlining his optics.

"Hey, UM, mind tellin' us what's wrong with your glossa?" Jazz questioned quietly.

Ultra half-shrugged, shaking his helm slightly. Jazz's servos rested softly on his head, one on his forehelm, the other gently gripping his lower jaw component. Gently he applied pressure and Ultra gave in, letting his mouth components be gently pried open.

"What-the-slag,-sir!" Blurr immediately blurted out. "How-did-you-end-up…" Ultra tuned out his incessant rambling.

His frame jerked when Jazz ran a finger over it, optics onlining abruptly at the pleasant surge coursing though his frame. It embarassed Ultra to realize that, not only was it an illegal mod, it was an illegal mod meant for interfacing. Blurr stopped talking instantly.

"It's still leaking." Jazz commented, his voice low and slightly upset sounding.

Ultra was actually rather surprised. He hadn't felt or tasted any leaking energon. Vaguely he wondered if his sensors were malfunctioning.

He heard the door open moments before the lights were turned on full and Red Alert's annoyed voice sliced through his audios.

"What have you done…" Ultra instinctively offlined his optics and audios as those actions caused excruciating pain to lance through his processor once again.

He didn't even try to online them when a gentle servo came to rest on his shoulder plates or when another reached up under his shoulder guard and deactivated the electric paint job. It wasn't until a numbing agent was injected directly into his energon lines, dulling the pain in his processor to a tolerable level, that he onlined them again.

The lights were dimmed and the few Guardsmechs that stood around the room were silent. Red Alert actually looked concerned and Jazz's servo still rested on his shoulder plates.

"How much did you drink to end up this bad?" Red Alert asked.

"Barmech sai' he stoppe' serving af'er five." Ultra mumbled.

"Five what?" Red Alert asked a bit harshly.

"Concen'rat-" Red Alert pressed a finger to his lip components.

"Jazz informs me your glossa is damaged. You will answer with texts only, Magnus." Red Alert ordered him as she began running scans of his systems.

::_Apparently it was concentrated high-grade._:: Ultra texted.

"Did anybot else give you drinks?" Jazz asked, tone and faceplates giving nothing away.

::_Maybe._:: Ultra texted, embarrassment welling at the fact he couldn't be certain what happened after only the third drink.

"Maybe?" Jazz's tone was still deceptively neutral. Ultra winced internally. If Jazz wasn't angry already he would be. "You don't remember?"

::_No. I was quite overcharged by the fifth cube._:: Ultra couldn't meet Jazz's visored optics anymore.

"Just how concentrated was this 'high-grade'? I know it takes a lot more than that to get you overcharged to the point of memory degradation." Red Alert asked, optics narrowed, apparently having been forwarded his text.

::_Quite apparently. My memory files aren't very clear after the third._:: Ultra admitted to Red Alert. Jazz's servo tightened on his shoulder plate and he realized that Red was also apparently forwarding his texts.

Red Alert slipped a finger between his lip components, prompting him to open his mouth.

"And this?" She asked, prodding at it. Shocks ran through his frame, causing his limbs to jerk slightly. "Did you, even in your overcharged state, agree to this?"

Ultra shrugged.

"So you may very well not have." She concluded sounding quite put out.

Ultra wished he could tell her if he had or not but he couldn't even get a partial memory file that involved whatever bot had modded him. His glossa stung as she removed the bar and applied a nanite salve. He could feel the hole in his glossa, his sensors dulled but still informing him something was missing. Apparently this is what Mixer meant by integrated into his systems. His glossa was half numb without the mod now.

"Who was the bot?" Jazz asked, visor flashing dangerously.

::_I do not have any memory files that contain any bot giving me high-grade or installing the mod, although I was informed the bot was a mech._:: Ultra texted both Jazz and Red Alert this time.

Red Alert abruptly reached into her subspace, withdrawing a container which she inserted into an open port on his arm. It began to fill with energon directly from his systems.

"The fact that you cannot even recall this mech is disturbing. I will have to run full spectrum tests on your energon." She pinned a glare on him. "You were very likely drugged. It is lucky you weren't botnapped or worse."

Ultra shifted uncomfortably at that. Every bot in the room instantly tensed.

"UM, you are getting a full protection detail, dig?" Jazz crossed his arms, actually glaring slightly at Ultra Magnus.

He nodded, resigned to his fate, but grateful that the motion did not cause excruciating pain this time. Red Alert disconnected the containment unit from his energon line and stepped back, subspacing it.

"You will return to your home now. I am relieving you of duty for the next five sols." Red Alert ordered him. "I will be checking in on you every sol and I expect you to be there."

Ultra sighed softly through his vents, getting up from the berth. Red Alert picked up the glossa bar from where she had placed it on the table next to his berth, glaring at the small item.

"Unfortunately with this kind of mod I cannot simply remove it and let it heal, or even do a straight replacement." Red Alert grumbled optics fixed on the small silver ball at the end of the bar. "And it will undoubtedly cause quite a stir when the council sees it."

::_I was given the name of a store that sells 'flat natural-colored' caps._:: Ultra texted. ::_I will buy one of those for now._:: Ultra reached up to re-activate his electric paint but Blurr abruptly spoke up.

"Sir-that-won't-fool-anyone-with-all-of-us-escorting-you-back-to-your-estate." Ultra realized that Blurr was correct, once he interpreted the fast paced chatter, so he lowered his servo without engaging the disguise.

He transformed down carefully, still wary of his lurking processor ache, and was herded out of the apartment and towards his estate.

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><p>Yes, I know it's kinda open ended, but I have no plans to continue it at this time. )<p>

Hope you enjoyed the strange crack drama.

I 3 reviews.


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